On Wild Cat
by constantlearner
Summary: Set during my story " A provincial lady visits the Lake." ( just after the Picts and the Martyrs) The younger Swallows have befriended Vicky and Robin who are spending the night on Wild Cat island, never having camped before. The mates and captains have their misgivings about this, and John is having trouble sleeping. He tries to get to sleep by imagining a "prequel" to Missee Lee.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter one

"Look here, Nancy, why don't you sleep in my tent and I'll sleep outside. Roger and Bridgie are the ones who wished Robin and Vicky on us."

It was no use asking her in front of the others, John knew his fellow captain well enough to know that by now.

"Honestly, it alright John." She looked up from checking that _Amazon_ was secure for the night, while he did the same for _Swallow. _For John, these were some of the best moments of the day, talking with his fellow captain in the relative privacy of the harbour, or just checking their vessels in the companionable silence. Now, of course, with _Scarab _safely next to_ Swallow, _Dick had joined them in this routine. John liked Dick well enough and approved of his determination to do his best by _Scarab, _but this evening, John wanted to speak to Nancy alone. He had hit on the idea of asking Dick to talk him through what he was checking, and had been impressed by the thoroughness which the younger boy had brought to the task.

At the end of Dick's explanation, John had said, "Not bad, not bad at all."

Nancy had added, "He means "Jolly good."

It had seemed easy enough for John to add, "You've checked all you can here." and perhaps it was that last "here" which made Dick head back to the camp and leave the two captains – the two senior captains - together.

John doubted that Nancy would ever have given the explanation she did if Dick had been there.

"I'd like to sleep outside tonight. Really. I'm not just saying it to be polite. It was rotten for the D's of course, having to hide and feeling they were in the way, but it was pretty awful for us too - frilly frocks and petticoats and being on view all the time and - not know if she would have a go at Mother anyway."

No need to explain who "she" was. No need to explain why that made Nancy determined to sleep outside. John was only surprised that Nancy had not already embroiled them all in some wild and complicated plan, instead of the comparatively staid project of teaching the Ds to sail properly. Perhaps deceiving the great aunt had satisfied her love of intrigue for the time being. Perhaps she was still more worried about her mother than she would admit.

"Fair enough, Captain Nancy." was all he actually said.

After the first night, John usually found it easy enough to sleep on Wild Cat Island. The first mate's misgivings about how Robin and Vicky would cope during their first night under canvas had unsettled him perhaps. If he was going to lie awake he might as well think of something interesting.

So after they had escaped on _Shining Moon _and Miss Lee had had to return to her duty, what had happened then? Sailing a junk, even a small one must have been a challenge when they didn't really know what they were doing. John sighed and rolled over in his sleeping bag. If he started trying to work that out, sleep would be more elusive than ever. He knew he would not be happy with the details he made up until he found out if he was right – impossible on Wild Cat Island.

He would have to go back to a time before their adventure on the coast of China, when the little green schooner _Wild Cat_, in immaculate condition and looking as though she would live the next hundred years at least had just sailed across the Atlantic. (Once Titty had stated firmly that they would already have visited Tahiti before the loss of the Wild Cat, it became as impossible to change as a fact. John was privately very proud of his little sister's imagination, and sometimes uneasy about where it might take her.) So – somewhere warm – blue water- sailing- he remembered how much Titty had like the phrase when they had used it in Peter Duck. The Caribbean? Somewhere on the Gulf of Mexico?

* * *

><p>Without Peter Duck, Susan had to admit that that Titty and Roger would not always be able to go to bed at the correct time. Besides, Titty was older now than Susan and Peggy had been on that first voyage. As ship's engineer, Roger was generally awake during the day and woken as needed at night, but Captain Flint had divided the night into three watches. He had one, with Peggy to assist him; Nancy took the second, with Titty as her assistant and John took the third with Susan to help. Susan was somewhat mollified by Peggy's suggestion that the assistant could, when not needed, sleep or at least lie down fully clothed in the bunk that had once been occupied by Mr Duck. Like many plans it did not always work out exactly as originally suggested. After they had left the busy shipping of the Channel, a second person was not always required on watch and the three captains agreed that it was sometimes as well to leave the sleeping member of one watch to her sleep in the deck house bunk while the mate or able seaman who should relieve her to slept on in her own bunk. When they were in port, of course, only one person was needed for the anchor watch.<p>

The entire crew had enjoyed their visit to Madeira. The highlight for Roger had been hurtling down the streets on Funchal in a basket. (Gibber had been so terrified that Titty and Susan had walked down the hill with him in the end.) They had stayed for a few days, and although Captain Flint had not wished to leave _Wild Cat_ for more than a few hours at a time, the rest of them had, in various combinations, made trips to other parts of the island. It was Nancy who found out about walking along the levadas, and led them alongside spectacular and sometimes precipitous drops. Titty and Nancy were the most enthusiastic about the wild volcanic mountain scenery and Titty was also much taken with the _Agapanthus_ which grew as roadside plants. They had all been surprised to discover that rather dull cake that the Swallows and Amazons thought of as Madeira cake was seen in much the same light by many of the Madeirans they met. The entire ship's company were impressed by the local honey cake, and the mates bought several of them for future provisions as well as immediate consumption.

"We shan't be able to do anything about the fish though." Peggy said, and although they had all enjoyed espada when they tried it, only Roger had espada cooked with bananas every time they ate at a café.

"Don't you want to try something different?" Peggy had asked him.

"But I know I'll probably never have it again after we leave here. I _think_ the waiter said it only lived in deep water."

And Peggy had bought extra bananas and served them with tinned tuna and rice a week later. Roger was suitably grateful for the effort without John and Susan having to nudge him, but they all, even Peggy, realised that the experiment had not been especially successful. That was the last of the bananas anyway, although they bought more in the Canaries and more again at Nassau. It was here that they encountered the first of Captain Flint's old friends and his wife. The entire ship's company were invited to their house. John was left on anchor watch, with a textbook on navigation for company. He was rather pleased that, clever though she was in general, he making faster progress than Nancy.

"_Stop being such donkeys!" The sentence would be characteristic of Peggy, but the whisper came from Dick's tent for all it held an unaccustomed note of fierceness. John rolled out of his sleeping bag and picked up his torch. He should not let his exasperating brother and the rather irritating Robin rag Dick. _

_Dick was giving quite a good account of himself, but was very much hampered by the fact that Roger had his hold of his spectacles and the need to avoid waking the others. John was amazed that they weren't all awake._

"_That's a pretty low trick, grabbing Dick's goggles like that." John observed. "You know better than that Roger, even if our guest doesn't." He didn't whisper, but kept his voice very low. Robin hadn't missed the slight emphasis on the word guest nor the dismissive note. Apparently chastened, the younger boys handed back Dick's glasses and pillow and crawled back into Roger's tent._

"_Sorry about that, Dick." John murmured._

"_Not your fault." Dick replied in a similar tone before scrambling into his own tent._

_John wasn't at all sure Roger and Robin would settle down to sleep._

Captain Flint seemed to have old friends everywhere. It had seemed a pity not to see something of the United States while they were so close and, Captain Flint's friend in Nassau having mentioned a mutual acquaintance in Louisiana, they ended up going there.

The town with its small port was sufficiently small that even John had to look it up on a map – none of the crew of _Wild Cat _had heard of it. The town wasn't too small to have noticeably wealthier and poorer areas – and the area Captain Flint's friend lived in definitely seemed to be one of the wealthier ones.

"Make sure you keep tight hold of Gibber." John muttered as they walked up the broad and immaculately kept path, with a well-tended lawn on either side, up to the neo-Classical front door. Captain Flint had brought only John and Roger with him this time. John understood why Captain Flint thought he should bring no more than two of them, but wondered why he had not brought his own nieces. Surely his old friend would be more interested in seeing them?

"You don't need to mention my name if you can avoid it." Captain Flint murmured quietly as the three of them approached the well-painted front door.

"So what are we to call you?" Roger asked somewhat startled.

"Sir?" John suggested. "He _is_ the skipper."

"Captain Flint will do very well."

Captain Flint's old friend was charmed with Gibber. Roger was charmed with the ice-cream she offered them, which had nuts and little pieces of chocolate sprinkled on it. John thought it very good too.

It seemed they had arrived at the right time – according to Mrs Parr. "We're having a costume ball tomorrow – I'm sure the young people will enjoy it."

John was fairly sure he wouldn't enjoy dancing and making small talk with a succession of strange girls. On the other hand, he quite liked the idea of dancing with Nancy (if she would consent to dance at all – you never quite knew with an Amazon pirate) and a party supper at this house where such sumptuous ice-cream was produced at a moment's notice as a snack would be well worth the eating.

He glanced across a Captain Flint, who nodded very slightly, and then back at Roger who was letting Gibber eat the little wafer that had come with his ice-cream. John didn't think his mother would be happy if he allowed Roger to bring Gibber to a party and Roger let Gibber escape to wreak havoc. Gibber's eventual escape over the course of an evening was a forgone conclusion. And of course some people would be afraid he might bite. Come to that, this evidently completely grown-up party would be sure to go on later than Mate Susan would approve of for Titty and Roger. Staying up late or getting up early when it was matter of sailing_ Wild Cat _was one thing; Susan was sailor and appreciated the need. She was likely to take a different view about parties.

"It's very kind." John said, "And we'd love to come of course, but I'm afraid we haven't got any costumes and I think my sister will feel it's too late for the Roger and Titty to be out."

Their hostess laughed. John wonder it that was what people meant by a silvery laugh in stories. It sounded just a little bit too perfect. He decided he liked Nancy's jolly and altogether unladylike laugh a lot better.

"As to that," Mrs Parr said, "I store the costumes for our little musical society. Perhaps you could choose some costumes for yourself and your sisters and friends."

"But I'm afraid John is quite right about Titty and Roger being a little young for dances yet." Captain Flint added. John thought he was carefully not meeting Roger's eyes.

John and Roger were escorted up the rather grand staircase by a maid and shown a room with several rails and some shelving. John picked up one of the hats. It seemed the musical society had done HMS Pinafore in the not too distant past. The maid suggested that they pick out a couple of costumes each for the girls.

John picked out a couple of the shorter sailor costumes for the Amazons. It looked the sort of thing they were most likely to wear. There was a "shepherdess" costume, more like little Bo-Peep than something you would wear to round up sheep, that looked about the right size for Susan. There were a couple more dresses that looked about the right size for Nancy and Peggy, long but not as frilly as most of them hanging on the rails. John picked up a red one and an olive green one. There was nothing he could see to object to in the colours. They would most likely want to wear the sailor costumes anyway. John looked around for another costume for Susan. Here was one which looked vaguely like one of the illustrations in Grimm's fairy tales. It would probably do, he decided.

Gibber leapt from the top on one of the rails to John's shoulder. John looked round to see what Roger was doing. Roger waved a costume on a hanger. It was just what you might expect an American theatre group to imagine a nineteenth century Royal Navy officer to look like. Actually, it wasn't too bad as a fancy dress costume.

"Try this one on." Roger urged. "The maid's gone outside and it's got a sword."

"Not a real one." said John.

"It's metal." Roger said. "Not very sharp." he added, testing the blade.

"Lucky for you." John said, but tried the costume on anyway. It wasn't too bad.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Trying on was in progress on _Wild Cat. _Susan had made John try on his outfit, inspected him, repaired a few places where gold braid was coming unsewn and pronounced herself satisfied. Captain Flint, Roger and John had then retreated to the deck while the Amazons and Susan tried on their costumes.

By the number of billygoats to be barbequed, John thought things were not going well. A cabin door opened and Susan's voice floated up, slightly louder than usual.

"It isn't going to fit and we haven't got anything to alter it with. Besides we can't go messing about with clothes belonging to other people."

John couldn't hear Nancy's reply, but a response to it came in Peggy's voice.

"Turning up hems is easy. If you don't iron them, no one can tell you've done it when you undo them again. I can't make the hips any wider on the trousers. "

Again, John couldn't hear the reply. What could subdue Captain Nancy to the point where she was quieter than both the mates?

Susan's voice again. "Honestly, Nancy, it looks perfectly alright. Lots of evening clothes are like that and people wear them all the time to parties"

Peggy again, "It's only people like the great-aunt who would mind."

Nancy's voice, "Gimminy, you two don't half go on. I'll wear it. I don't see that I've got much choice. Just as well John never thought to bring shoes – or perhaps they wore their own in this musical society."

* * *

><p>John, already dressed in his fancy dress outfit, was on deck chatting to the able seaman who was to row them across in <em>Swallow <em>when the girls came up on deck. Peggy first, as a sailor from HMS Pinafore. She had used her own belt – mutilated once to provide the hinges for Timothy's hutch – to hold the waist in, and it wasn't quite the right blue, but it was good enough. Susan wore the other HMS Pinafore outfit. Nancy came on deck last. You would have to know Nancy very well indeed to know that her manner was defiant rather than confident. That thought only occurred to John when they were half way to the shore. The only two thoughts that occurred to him while the four of them stood on the deck of _Wild Cat _were _she looks wonderful in that red dress _followed by _if I don't keep my eyes fairly firmly fixed on her face she's going to be furious._

Nancy looked at him curiously. Eventually, she said, "You might have brought a sword for me too."

"Sorry." He grinned at her. She grinned back. Something that might not have been alright was suddenly alright again.

* * *

><p>It looked like the set from a musical film. Not quite so big perhaps, and people were moving about far more randomly. Still, John could not quite escape the feeling of unreality.<p>

John introduced Susan and the Amazons to Mrs Parr, who was resplendently crinolined with massive matching dyed feathers on her head. John thought she looked at them rather searchingly as she shook hands. They were younger than most of the other guests. Did she wonder if they were going to behave themselves? Nancy met Mrs Parr's gaze with a level, neutral one of her own and smiled. John decided he did not much care for Nancy's social smile. He much preferred her usual wide grin.

Mrs Parr passed them on smoothly to a middle-aged man called Mr Williams, who in turn introduced them to a little cluster of people variously dressed. There was a tall, thin woman dressed in yellow, whose head gear suggested that she represented a daffodil, a short gentleman in a well-made but surely very hot lion costume and a man dressed in a bizarre variant of Victorian dress with small brass cogwheels sewn on, watch chains and what looked like a stethoscope sticking out of one pocket, a trap door in his hat and a kerchief in place of a necktie. Most bizarrely of all, more than half of his face was painted as if he was one of those mechanical robot things in the magazine Roger had bought in Florida. John wondered if he had intended to paint only half his face or if he had run out to the stuff to do it. At any rate he seemed the most inclined to be friendly and asked Peggy to dance. John wondered if he was meant to ask the daffodil to dance, but he wasn't at all confident that the dance was one he could cope with. The problem was solved, because Robin Hood came up and gave the daffodil a drink with bits of fruit in it.

The mechanical man brought Peggy back and asked Susan for the next dance – a waltz. John asked Nancy to dance and they danced that dance– and the next also a waltz. John was so busy trying not to count aloud that they had progressed half way round the room before he notice that Nancy's lips were moving very slightly. She _was _counting under her breath. It felt somehow very reassuring. Nancy noticed him noticing.

"Once I'm properly started I won't need to count." She murmured. "The thing is at school dancing was considered a treat. You know, the sort of thing you've got to do on Saturday evening but they still expected you to be grateful. And I used to be doing lines for something or other instead a lot of Saturday evenings, at least until the last year or so. Do you think we should be doing twirly bits like the other couples?"

John glanced around at the other couples without bring them into any collisions – Nancy seemed quite determined to lead anyway. Nancy was right – there did seem to be a lot of stepping away from partners and twirling round by the women.

"I can't remember anyone mentioning those bits." he said.

"There certainly wasn't anything like it at school." Nancy agreed. "But Peggy and the mechanical man aren't doing them either. Maybe Americans waltz differently?"

Why was Roger laughing at them? He wasn't there. _Why did his idiot younger brother have to go and wake him up in the middle of a perfectly good dream? He could as least have waited until after the supper._

_The younger boys had woken Titty as well this time. John grabbed Roger by his pyjama collar, compelling him to stop belabouring Robin with the pillow. Titty, being smaller, wriggled inside Roger's tent and took possession of the rolled up pullover with which Robin was giving as good as he got. John was impressed with Titty's efficiency in effecting the disarmament. He would tell her so in the morning. Getting Roger and Robin settled without rousing the whole camp, especially Bridget and Vicky, was more important now. There was no hope of getting Robin and Roger to behave themselves unless they were separated and asleep. _

"_Right, that's enough before you wake everyone." John tried to sound as authoritative as he could in a whisper. "Roger, get back in your sleeping bag, shut up and try to go to sleep. That's an order. Robin, get your blankets and go and sleep in my tent. I'll sleep outside – and heaven help you both if I hear another squeak out of either of you tonight." _

_John saw both boys to their appointed places while he found his shoes by the wavering light of Titty's torch and then gathered up his own sleeping bag and torch and made his way to the area a little outside the camp where Nancy was sleeping. She wasn't quite asleep, but her murmured "What's the matter?" lacked her customary vigour and John's brief sentence of explanation satisfied her. He used his torch to find a spot without rocks or branches to stick into him and settled down to pass the rest of the night trying to get to sleep. They had been at that dance – he must have been asleep to imagine that. Surely something more exciting could happen? _

John danced a few times with Peggy and again with Nancy and once with the daffodil and again with Nancy, so that they had supper together. Susan and Peggy had supper with the lion, who had seemed keener on eating than dancing. John supposed the costume must be hot and the tail a nuisance.

They had just about finished their ices when Nancy gripped his arm just above the elbow. Two shorts and a long.

"At least," she murmured as quietly as she could manage, "Probably not us. But you know that mechanical man I danced with?"

John nodded. "Susan said he asked a lot of questions about _Wild Cat _and what we were doing."

"Well it is pretty unusual." Nancy conceded. "Although what he can have had left to ask after Peggy had been chattering on for two whole dances I'm not sure. Anyway, he's slipped off upstairs before supper."

"Lavatory?" suggested John.

"That's downstairs. Two of them." said Nancy, "I suppose that must be because of water pressure or something. Anyway, there's definitely something odd about him – and no-one seems to know who he is. I mean, he turns up to a fancy-dress party, is very courteous and pleasant, asks people to dance but no-one actually seems to know him. The Robin Hood thinks he's a friend of ours and so does that daffodil. The lion wasn't sure if he was with us or with Robin Hood. There's such a crowd around the door it's difficult for people who are already here to see people arriving. No- one quite likes to ask him who he is and I haven't seen him go anywhere near Mrs Parr or that Mr Williams. And his voice."

"I haven't heard him say much."

"Well I've danced with him. Peggy spots that sort of thing better. But it would be hard to say where he comes from."

"Honestly Nancy, there's nothing odd in that. Lots of people move around when they're young if their parents move and pick up bits of different accents."

"Different parts of Britain – yes – or home and school, maybe. But his voice is a little bit like the way they speak here, but sometimes reminds me of someone I used to know at school. Problem is …"

Someone came closer and Nancy stopped speaking and picked up her glass again. It did not taste quite the same as that champagne that Captain Curteledge had brought that New Year's Eve

– _John was not sure how many years ago_ _– "After you've left school and before John has joined the navy" Titty had said when they were making up the story of Miss Lee, "Maybe in a few years' time? Do we need to decide?"_

_- _but it was similar and they had both liked it enough to accept a second glass and then a third when it was offered to them by the immaculately dress staff circulating with seemingly endless shiny trays full of sparkling glasses.

"Problem is.." John prompted when they'd moved away again.

"Problem is…I can't remember." Nancy grinned up at him. "I mean – I can't remember who. But I think we should do something about it."

"Look here, Nancy, it's going to be jolly embarrassing going up to Mrs Parr and explaining it all to her. We haven't really got anything to tell – not properly. And suppose he's a relative or something that she has to invite but they really don't get on?"

"I wasn't suggesting tell Mrs Parr." Nancy said, "I was going to suggested we go and find out what he's up to ourselves." She put down her empty glass and stood up. "I'll slip upstairs now; you wait a minute or two and follow me. If anyone stops either of us we can just pretend we were looking for the bathroom. That seems to be what they say here even if it's a totally different room."

And she flitted away softly before he had time to argue, with her sandshoes making no noise on the polished floor and the artificial silk of the long full skirt not rustling at all.


	3. Chapter 3

Wild Cat chapter 3

John was quite convinced that Nancy was… it would be disloyal to his fellow captain to say "making things up", whatever Susan might say… but possibly Nancy was putting a more exciting interpretation on events. After all Squashy Hat (John was still having difficulty thinking of him as Timothy) had not been a rival – but then he _had_ been prospecting, so Nancy had not been completely wrong. It was probably time to go upstairs.

Nancy was lurking quietly around the corner from the top of the stairs. John had wondered if she might draw attention to herself by looking furtive, but she was looking wonderfully nonchalant and slightly bored.

"I heard a door opening and closing down that way." She gestured further down the corridor.

"So what do you want us to do?"

"We could open the doors and see if he's there inside each room."

"And what do we say if he is, _excuse me are you planning some sort of burglary_?"

Nancy grinned. "Tempting – but I was think more of something along the lines of "_Could you tell me where the bathroom is please?" _

There seemed at first to be an extraordinary number of rooms in this house, but John quickly discovered that his side of the corridor was mostly cupboards. There were two with folded linen, one with more costumes, probably theatrical, and one containing a miscellany of mops, brushes and buckets. Nancy's side seem to have fewer door and more proper rooms. The corridor turned left after the mops. John had found a hot water cylinder with a rack of underwear drying above it when he heard a sound in the corridor behind them.

"Nancy!" he whispered as loud as he dared, glancing round to see where she was.

"Here, quick!"

He darted across the corridor and through the door she held open. Nancy shut it quickly but softly. There was a little click of the catch, but with the music from the band drifting up the staircase, you would have to be quite close to hear it.

"Suppose they come in here?" he asked

"I bet this is a… yes it is a wardrobe."

It was built into the wall and had louvered doors. It was also quite full of women's dresses, most of them fairly long, and its floor was cluttered with shoes and bags.

"Scrunch in somehow. No-one's going to come charging in to change their frock in the middle of a party." Nancy commanded.

"Bet the daffodil wants to," John said. "She can't have got much to eat at supper, with that trumpet thing round her face."

"Go on."

The wardrobe seemed not to have a separate floor, to John's relief. They seemed to be making quite enough noise as it was. It was rather ridiculous.

The inclination to laugh left him abruptly as he heard the door start to open. Nancy must have heard it too, because she was still immediately. There was the click of heels across the parquet floor. It sounded like a woman's shoes. John tried to remember what Mrs Parr had been wearing on her feet, and failed. There was the faint noise of a spring. Was she sitting on the armchair or the bed? Either way, sitting down was a bad sign, showing that the feet and their owner intended to stay for some time.

There came a knock at the door.

"Enter!" John still wasn't sure if the voice belonged to their hostess or another woman.

Other footsteps crossed the floor. Voices spoke. The newcomer was male and, John thought by both the accent and the cadence of his speech, English. He could not hear every word of the low-toned conversation, but something was being sold and a price was discussed. The Englishman seemed to be getting less than he asked for, but accepted it eventually and departed.

The woman's footsteps came over to the wardrobe. The door opened. Discovery seemed inevitable. There was a rattle of coat hangers. Nancy leaned over on to him. Her feet stayed quite still and she was apparently bending from the ankles. John realised that she was being pushed as the hanging dresses were being pushed apart. It seemed so unlikely that they would get away with it. Should he bend backwards as Nancy did? Suppose he slipped? Nancy was now resting her chin on his shoulder. She didn't lean any further. Were they about to get caught? John could think of only one excuse for being caught hiding in a wardrobe at a party. It wasn't going to reflect well on either of them, but having their hostess (assuming it was her) think they were burglars was bound to cause no end of problems and embarrassment for Captain Flint and the entire crew of _Wild Cat_.

There were various sounds; some wooden and hollow, some like small metal items clicking together gently. Something opened. A faint soft thud. Something closed. The faint metallic sound came again and then the wood on wood sound. The coat hangers clinked. The louvered door closed. John became more aware of Nancy's weight on his shoulders and her breath warm against his neck. The heels sounded over the floor and the door to the room closed.

They waited in silence.

"Giminy," Nancy murmured eventually. "I'm stuck. At least I'm not sure I can wriggle upright without bringing all the hangers down and making a beastly racket. Let's see if I can move my feet without things crashing about."

He steadied her with one hand on what seemed to be her waist. His other hand was caught behind the hilt of the sword. Nancy brought one foot closer to his without much noise and then the other. Her weight was securely on her own feet again, but they were now pressed rather closely together.

"Do you think we ought to wait a bit before we move?" he suggested very quietly.

"She doesn't seem the sort to forget something and come back for it." Nancy whispered in reply. "Give it a minute and let's look at whatever she bought for so much money."

"It was dollars, not pounds sterling."

"Still a lot of money. Must be something important. And that was a very odd way to buy something that expensive, unless it's stolen."

"Nancy, we can't go poking around in a house where we are guests!"

"Of course we can. It's going to be so much easier that trying to break in later, without all that noise from the band."

There was no point in asking if they had to look for it at all. Nancy _wouldn't_ leave it alone. John was also fairly sure they _shouldn't_ let matters rest without finding out what had been sold.

After a minute, Nancy opened the door and extricated herself quietly from the wardrobe.

"It's alright." she said. "Luckily she left the light on. I didn't bring a torch."

"I did." John could not help feeling rather pleased with himself. Fortunately the pockets in his costume were quite deep.

John found himself holding the torch while Nancy found the wooden panel in the back of the wardrobe and the catch that moved the wooden panel.

"There's a small padlock." Nancy said. "I'd have hope the keys were in the desk drawer, but we didn't hear it open or close."

John looked anyway, feeling under the drawer too in case anything had been fastened there. He must be leaving finger-prints everywhere. Still, finger-prints didn't matter unless you had something to compare them to. Something rolled towards the back of the drawer. John cautiously slid his hand inside amongst the oddments of stationery. By the feel it was a small screwdriver. He pulled it out. It was.

"Let's see what I can do with this. You'll have to hold the torch, Nancy. I might need both hands."

There was nothing much he could do with the hasp of the fastening. The hinged part covered the screws that held it in. The staple was another matter and the ends of at least two screws were exposed. The ones still under the hasp might be study enough to prevent him getting any further. If they were lucky, John thought, there was a reasonable chance that he might be able to get the screws back in place so that it at least looked right at first glance.

"Here, hold these." John whispered to Nancy, dropping the small brass screws into her left hand.

It was even easier than he expected. As the hasp, staple and padlock swung towards John on the hinge of the hasp, he realised why the screws had been left exposed. Someone had used a strip of beading to make up for the gap between the little wooden door and its frame. John thought that surely this arrangement couldn't have been intended to keep anything secure, rather than merely hidden, for long.

John reached cautiously inside the little hidey hole. Whatever it was could not be big. His fingers met paper. He withdrew the book cautiously. It had brown papers covers and no proper binding. The quickest glance inside told him that the situation was as bad, or worse, than he had feared. He probably didn't need to explain to Nancy. She must have seen the words MOST SECRET stamped on the cover. He told her anyway.

"It's a Royal Navy code book."

**Author's note: **With many thanks to Fergus Mason for both proofreading and information about codebooks


	4. Chapter 4

**On Wild Cat Chapter 4**

"At least," John said, "It's more a mixture of code and cipher really. But that doesn't make any difference."

"Even if we get it back to where it's meant to be, there may have been other copies made," Nancy pointed out.

John nodded. "Yes, although it's probably better to destroy it anyway."

"Or take it back to _Wild Cat_ and show it to Uncle Jim…" Nancy frowned.

"It might put the others in danger if the wrong people knew we'd got it." John said.

"Or be very difficult to explain, if the right people knew we'd got it before we told them." Nancy said. "The first thing we've got to do is get out of here before we're caught. Will that book go in the pocket of that coat?"

It didn't, but with the help of John's pocket knife they cut one of the seams in the lining until they could fit it in. It looked a bit lumpy but, as Nancy pointed out, people wouldn't be noticing as much as they had at the beginning of the party.

"You go first," Nancy said as she looked around the door. "Just look confident and hope no-one thinks about asking you what you've been doing."

John got downstairs without remark and found Susan watching the lion dancing with Peggy.

"Susie," he said, "I don't want to explain now, but as soon as Nancy comes downstairs we need to leave as quickly as we can without attracting attention. Do you have a box of matches with you?"

"No, there are no pockets in this, but Peggy probably has. The knight," John glanced discretely where Susan's eyes indicated, "is probably going to ask me to dance again."

The silver painted cardboard looked quite uncomfortable, but he was indeed making straight for Susan.

"You'd better dance with me," John said, "Then when Nancy comes downstairs we can collect Peggy and slide off. We don't have to saying good-bye and thank you for inviting us do we? I mean, it's a pretty big party. There must be a hundred people here."

"Probably not quite so many." said Susan. "I'm pretty sure we ought to say thank you. And no-one will mind us going early I think. We must be the youngest here."

An owl seemed a very strange thing to have at a party and John had expected American owls to sound different. _And after all he must have been dreaming because the owl hooted again (a perfectly ordinary male tawny, Dick would say) and it took John a few more seconds to wake up properly and remember why he was not looking up at his own tent. Was it getting lighter? He turned his head. Nancy's sleeping-bagged silhouette was just about visible and closer than he had thought. She wasn't exactly snoring but her breathing was quite audible. John wriggled further down into the sleeping bag he was slightly too tall for and closed his eyes again._

They had found a bit of the shore far enough from the house to escape notice, they thought. There was a bank of sandy earth behind them, and behind that the yard of some kind of business premises, with piles of planks and railway sleepers, a heap of scrap iron and a lorry looming in the darkness. Whatever the exact nature of the business, they did not seem to think it worthwhile to set a night watch and they heard no barking.

"We've only got three matches," Susan warned the others.

"We're trying to burn paper. It should be easy enough." Nancy said.

"Not when it's all blowing about." Susan had a point. It was a good few hours after sunset and a land breeze was whipping both Nancy and Susan's skirts about.

"Look, once we've got the fire going, you'd better let me deal with it." Peggy said. "That artificial silk stuff would probably catch fire very easily."

"Yes," said John, "but we want to do it as quickly as possible. Once we get the fire going properly, it will probably be visible for quite a distance."

"We'd better pull out pages and start scrunching them up. It's quite a thick book. They'll never catch like that," Peggy suggested, as Susan continued to build her fire-place out of large wave smoothed pebbles found by the now- dimming light of the torch.

"Find a few thin bits of driftwood," Susan suggested. "It will help stop the paper blowing about once we get started."

John and Nancy found some sticks and broken bits of what might have been a tea chest.

"Was that noise someone moving about?" Nancy asked, but they couldn't tell over the swish of the waves and the faster they were now the better.

Susan and Peggy, heads close together, constructed the fire in the fireplace with scrunched balls of paper and the scraps of driftwood.

"With this much breeze, we'll be able to burn quite a few pages at a time," Susan remarked as she lit the fire with one match and stood up to let Peggy take over the jobs of feeding the flames.

Susan held the book while John and Nancy tore out pages, several at a time, twisted them into rough, wide spills and handed them to Nancy. The job was easier once John tore the brown paper cover from the spine, and stuffed it in the handily large pockets of his coat.

And, after all, the noise had been a person. It was the mechanical man from the party and he seemed quite as determined to stop them from burning the code book as they were to burn it.

After an initial "_Give me that book! It's important_!" there was very little said. The man with the cogwheels on his jacket tried to pull pages out of the fire with the end of a bent crowbar. Nancy pinned down the flaming pages with the end of Susan's crook until they burnt themselves out. The crook didn't light but it was a close thing. The important thing was to keep the mechanical man away from the fire until they had finished burning the pages. They were more than half done, John thought, and it had only taken them a few minutes. Most of the time had been used in finding a spot and setting up the fireplace. With Susan and Nancy in doubtless flammable long frocks, the further he kept cogwheel-man and any fight from the fire the better.

John drew his sword. It was not precisely drawing on an unarmed man, because cogwheel man was holding the crowbar in a currently unaggressive but far from casual grip. John did not want to injure the man. The sale of a Royal Navy code book was probably not illegal here on American soil. They needed to avoid any trouble that could delay _Wild Cat's_ departure. There was probably something you were meant to say at the beginning of a sword fight. Something French. He couldn't remember. Titty would know. Titty was back on _Wild Cat. _

John had no idea how you fought with a sword. The fighting you saw in films would be no help – after all the actors were carefully avoiding hurting each other. Having a clear idea of what you wanted to achieve would was probably a good start. He wanted to keep cogwheel man at a sufficient distance from the fire for the girls to burn the rest of the code book, and then let them get a sufficient head start to run back to _Swallow, _gettheoars out and make ready to cast off. Cogwheel man was about the same height as John and more heavily built. John thought he had a reasonable chance of outrunning him.

Cogwheel man seemed to have no idea of hurting John any more than John had of hurting him and seemed content to use the crowbar to parry John's sword blows. John had wondered whether the sword, which was unlikely to be the sort of properly tempered steel real swords were made of, would be too brittle in some way, but it seemed to be holding up well enough against the crowbar. And the clash of metal on metal continued. John thought that if anything he might be gaining a little ground. The sword was longer than the crowbar and probably no heavier. His arms were growing tired though.

"That's the last of it," came Nancy's voice, loud and cheerful above the metallic clanging.

"Back to_ Swallow _and make ready to cast off. Cast off before I get there if you have to," John yelled in reply. He would start his run for the jetty already a little short of breath. That could not be helped. Cogwheel man would be short of breath too. Perhaps he would be more interested in seeing if anything could be salvaged from the fire than in following them. John hoped so.

"Aye,aye sir!" came the response from behind him. John, who dared not take his attention from his opponent, felt surprise at the unmistakable smile that crossed the man's face in the glow from the fire. It didn't make his attention waver, though, and he parried John next attempt to knock the crowbar out of his hands just as neatly as he had done all the other times. He was undistracted, too, by the girls running past him at a prudent distance. John knew Susan, at least, would be unable to keep up that speed for long, but once they were clear of the light cast by the fire they would have to slow down or risk wasting time with a fall.

Another attempt to disarm him with the crowbar. John suspected his arms were tiring faster than those of cogwheel man, who was now between him and escape. John started to angle himself round a little with each blow and parry. After another few exchanges, cogwheel man abruptly backed up a pace or two and held the crowbar vertically and close to his body. He could easily strike John with it, if John came closer, but not attack him if he kept his distance.

"It had the makings of a good plan, and you foiled it. Hard to blame you under the circumstances." Cogwheel man took a breath. "Go in peace before your sister and her friends get worried. Go on … I'll not rescue anything from the fire now."

John risked a quick glance at the fire, saw that cogwheel man was right, backed up another pace, sheathed his sword and took to his heels. There was no sound of pursuing footsteps but ahead he heard the splash of something big landing in the water, and a string of cursing that the suggested that the something was a someone with an impressively extensive vocabulary. Strangely there was a shout of laughter from somewhere behind John. It was slightly more awkward to run with a sword that he had imagined, but he made it back to _Swallow _while Peggy was still fending off the swimmer (who was improbably dressed as an engine driver) with an oar.

"Let them go," came cogwheel man's voice from the darkness. It sounded oddly resigned. No one would think the man had a bad conscience.

John scrambled in over the stern.

"Give way." Nancy's voice rang out. She had put herself and Peggy at the oars. Susan let go of the jetty and gave a good push off.

**Author's note:**

With many thanks to Fergus Mason for proofreading and encouragement.


	5. Chapter 5

It was Peggy who started to tell the story, of course, almost as soon as her feet touched the deck of _Wild Cat, _but Nancy quickly took over. John wasn't entirely sorry. His fight with cogwheel man certainly sounded better with Nancy telling it than John remembered. Was that really how it had looked to the others? Titty and Roger were clearly impressed. John glanced at Captain Flint. How much trouble had they got the ship's company into?

"Well, Mister Mate." Captain Flint said to Susan, when Nancy had finished. "Are the stores fully replenished?"

Susan nodded. "We could cast off now, if we wanted to."

"Except for giving the costumes back," Peggy added.

"You aren't actually sure that Barbara Parr had anything to do with it?" Captain Flint asked them again. Nancy and John both nodded.

"Those costumes are going to smell at least a little of smoke. We'll hang them up to air out tonight. Roger and Titty can take them to a dry-cleaners' tomorrow with a note to send the costumes back to Mrs Parr when they're done. It's a good enough reason to be gone by the time the costumes are given back."

"And it won't smell of anything but that wretched stuff they use anyway, once it's been cleaned." Peggy said.

"It seems a waste when the frocks and Peggy's outfit, at least, will wash beautifully." Susan said.

"But then we'd have to wait for them to dry, and one of us would have to take them back." Titty said.

"Surely we should be telling someone as soon as possible. Someone proper, I mean." Susan said.

"Not here." Peggy said, "I mean we wouldn't know whether the person we were telling was the somehow involved."

"Whatever happens," John said, "we've got to tell Daddy."

"It might be an idea not to post the letter here." Nancy said.

"Look, we'll send the able seamen to the cleaners with the parcel as soon as businesses open tomorrow, and I'll go ashore at the same time and complete the formalities. The tide will be right for us to leave us at any time after noon. We will probably find the chap we want to speak to in Kingston."

* * *

><p>Matters in Kingston did not go quite as John expected.<p>

He and Nancy were ushered into an office. They produced the cover of the code book, which Susan had rescued from the pocket of the coat just as Roger and Titty were about to take the costumes to the dry-cleaners. The officer who interviewed them was courteous. He listened to their account, thanked them for their efforts and ushered them from the room.

"All the same," John said, when they were back on _Wild Cat _on anchor watch while the rest of the crew explored ashore, "You could tell he didn't believe us. Or didn't believe it was important."

"But it was, wasn't it?" Nancy asked.

"Yes, although I suppose it could have been more important. It wasn't the usual sort of code that gets used by just about every ship and every shore station. So in a way it's less important, because there would be fewer messages. But they would be more important ones. Station commanders. For the people commanding actual bases to communicate with each other – and the admiralty, too I suppose."

"I thought you said not shore stations?"

"A station is a whole area, like this is the America and West Indies station."

"Barbequed Billygoats, so the sort of thing that would be used to give a heads up if there was going to be a war?"

John nodded. "I suppose so. That's why his reaction didn't make sense. Even if I'd misunderstood and it was just all the naval bases – proper ones I mean – well, it would still be important."

"He seemed keen enough to hear about it to start off with." Nancy said, "It was only when you hauled out the cover and gave it to him that he seemed to lose interest."

John thought about it. "Yes – and after only a glance at the cover. I don't know for sure, but everything else seemed to be right about it."

"What were the numbers on the front?" she asked. "That number like a common fraction. Thirty-three out of thirty-five."

"The number of copies, probably. There were thirty-five copies in total and this was number thirty-three."

"So how many naval bases are there?" She grinned at him. "Proper ones I mean? As many as thirty-five?"

"Yes." John said, and then, "Of course there must be – no, probably not. As many as thirty, maybe."

He started to name them, counting off on his fingers, feeling a bit of a fool as he did so.

"So you don't know, and I certainly don't know. It's like when they ask you how many of something there are, not what they are." Nancy said, "So it would be easier to fool someone."

If only, as Titty had said two years ago, Captain Nancy wasn't so jolly clever. Or at least if only she explained things more clearly. John thought carefully for a moment.

"Fool someone about it being a real code book? The number told him it wasn't?"

Nancy nodded vigorously.

"If even _you_ don't know the exact number of different bases that would have that codebook – and it would be bases, wouldn't it, if there were meant to be that many of them, not stations."

"There are few stations. Few enough that you would know at once." It was John's turn to nod in confirmation.

"Well, if even you have to think and work it out to know exactly how many naval bases there are – what chance of some American who has been contacted by someone supposedly with a secret codebook to sell of knowing that without working it out? Most people in Britain would miss out a few if you asked them to name them, even if they were pretty well educated and interested."

"So the person selling the codebook had faked it up just for the money? And the cogwheel man… but he wasn't the one selling it. Quite a different voice."

"I think the man we pushed into the water may have been." Nancy said. "It's hard to tell though; people don't sound the same when they're yelling."

"Cogwheel man said it had the makings of a good plan and we foiled it." said John thoughtfully. "I thought at the time it was a strange thing to say. As if he'd been reading a book on how to be a sympathetic villain. It didn't sound real, somehow."

"It still sounds wrong if they were just in it together and selling fake codebooks for the money." Nancy frowned as well.

"But not if – look if you really wanted to fake a codebook, why not just put the correct numbers on it? The same number as another book?" John argued. "You would have far less chance of being found out."

"There would be one code book for each station?" Nancy asked.

"Each base – yes – and presumably one in London."

"So when they started intercepting messages and listened for long enough they would have messages from all the stations – bases I mean. They would know all the bases still had their own codebooks and none of the messages were about a missing book. They'd know they'd been sold a pup if they'd got a book saying 10 of 30 and thirty other places were all sending messages with no problem."

"By that time whoever sold it would be well away with the money. It probably isn't the sort of code that gets used every day." John was thinking aloud.

"But suppose you wanted someone to_ think _they had the proper code book. It could be entirely false from beginning to end. They probably wouldn't ever try using it to send messages, because no-one knows they've got it so they'd want to keep that secret. You could send the occasional message that sounds alright when they decoded it, just so they think that they've got the right one. And then, if there ever was a war between Britain and the United States – assuming that's who she was buying it for - you could send all sorts of misleading messages. If you were going to do that though you would have to make them think they had a copy that might not be missed. A back-up copy from a safe somewhere that hardly ever gets opened would be much more convincing. Only you would have to pretend there were more copies than there were."

John thought about the plan. It was elaborate (so likely to have something go wrong), would work so beautifully _if_ it worked and was possibly entirely unnecessary. In short, it was a perfect Nancy plan.

Was it possible that, somewhere in the Admiralty there was someone with a mind like Nancy's? It seemed unlikely that there could ever be two such minds, but just possibly…

"And we've messed it up for them." John said.

"Not entirely."

"Not entirely? But we burned the entire thing!" he exclaimed.

"Well, that particular codebook, yes – but they must have made a copy for themselves, so they could send out the messages. So they might try again. And at the very least they know who was willing to buy it. We must have made it look very convincing for them. I mean if someone was so desperate to get the code book back or destroyed it will only make whoever was selling it to them _more _convincing when he next has a secret to sell."

"Perhaps." John somehow felt he should be the voice of caution. The problem was there wasn't anything left to be cautious about. Nancy was tapping together the sides of her sandshoes as she dangled her feet, scowling in thought still.

"Well I hope we haven't – I liked the man with the cogwheels – but we can't do anything about it now." Nancy said, tapping her feet louder.

"Nancy, why..."

"_Why what?" _

"_Why are you doing that with your feet?"_

"_I'm not doing anything with my feet."_

"_That noise?"_

"_That's a woodpecker. He's been doing that for a bit. Dick says they do it looking for ants. The six legged sort, not the sort with parasols."_

_And there they were on Wild Cat Island, both in their sleeping bags. John sat up and removed a few dead leaves from his hair. Nancy propped herself up on her elbow. She had moved a good couple of feet closer to him in the night. He wondered why._

"_It's too early to go for the milk." Nancy said. "I've been awake for a bit and Mr Dixon's only just started getting the cows in."_

_The sky, what he could see of it through the trees, still had a slight pinkish tinge. John thought he could hear a faint lowing on the east side of the lake. He wouldn't have noticed it if Nancy hadn't mentioned it._

"_It's completely still." John said. _

"_What about going on an expedition to Greenland then?" Nancy suggested. "We've not been there for a bit and Dick can look for his buzzards."_

"_After we've taken Vicky and Robert back," John said firmly. "I suppose we can't decently take them back earlier than eight." _

"_Half-past_ _eight, I should think, and Peggy told Mrs Dixon we would give them breakfast first. Look here, we're not going to get back to sleep now. Why don't we bathe, and then get the fire ready and the kettle on to surprise those mates of ours?"_

"_We don't want to wake Robin and Roger before we have to. They'll be less trouble asleep."_

"_We can bathe from the harbour. Luckily I remembered I might want my costume and towel." Nancy rummaged in her hastily packed knapsack._

"_I'm not sure I've got mine." said John rummaging in the even more hastily packed knapsack he had been using as a pillow. "Yes I have."_

_Nancy scrambled out of her sleeping bag, hair fluffy and tumbled, stripy pyjama trousers twisted round and jacket mis-buttoned. John remembered her in the long red silky dress. She wriggled into her sandshoes._

"_Give me a minute or two to change before coming down to the harbour." Nancy said and picked her way past the brambles to the path before running down to the harbour._

**Author's note**:With thanks to Fergus Mason for a second opinion.


End file.
